When I sit and my head dips. I reminisce and drift until there's a consciousness shift. I'm split. My lifes a cliff that's hard to grip. I've got the wits but choose the whips. I want the love but choose the pimps. Corporations who don't give two ***** about alcoholic fits. In cahoots with the boots who aren't afraid to shoot the kids not producing plantation fruits. If you want the truth it's the roots that have influenced generations of youth stupid. most of us pull through it. Like suicidal thoughts when they get intrusive.